


Balconies

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Mullet, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bartender!Reader x Mechanic!Dean, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Harsh Language, Mention of a Mental Hospital, Pie, Reader-Insert, light cursing, light physical assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She moved into a new apartment, got herself a new job and a few new friends. What she didn’t realize, was that on the other side of her wall was someone who would change her life. A man with bright green eyes and a charming grin.</p><p>The neighbors met on the balcony, but can their little world up there survive when it meets the real world?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Cup of Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Here we are! The first chapter of my first series! I am so excited for y’all to read this, you have no idea.

You always held true to the belief that moving was some form of torture. It was always a pain to move all your crap from one building to the next. There were always casualties no matter how much bubble wrap you used, and you bought a ton of bubble wrap. Though you hated moving, you were glad to be moving forward in life.

Setting the final box down, you looked around at all the cardboard that surrounded you and sighed. This was not going to be fun to put away. Your friend Charlie moved two years ago, and she _still_ had a lot of her stuff crammed into boxes in her closet. Hoping to not share the same fate, you started to unpack.

* * *

Several hours and one crazy-long playlist later, you managed to get most of your things put away. You still had stuff in boxes, but you were glad you shelled out the money for movers to move your furniture for you. You had no inclination to recreate the couch-moving scene from ‘F.R.I.E.N.D.S.’.

Shuffling into your bedroom, you gazed at your bed. If you were smarter you would have made it earlier, so you could just flop onto it at the end of the day. Digging around in a few boxes, you spotted your beloved Batman blanket and threw it onto your bed. In another box you found your pillow and threw it onto the bed as well. Deciding to be lazy, you climbed onto the bed and made yourself into a nice Batman-burrito with your blanket and fell sound asleep.

* * *

A few days passed as you made yourself at home. You were so happy with the apartment you managed to snag; it was gorgeous. Your favorite part was the balcony that overlooked a small lake. You always dreamt of having a balcony that you could drink coffee on while watching the sunrise.

Deciding that you were going to finally indulge the whim, you whipped up some coffee. Hot mug in hand, you slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. The view was as beautiful as you thought it would be. Beautiful golden oranges swirled with reds and yellows across the sky, casting a warm glow across the landscape. You gripped your mug in both hands to your chest, letting its warmth spread into your hands. Sipping your coffee, you watched the shadows shorten and the warm colors fade into blue. You were so relaxed and felt so at peace that you didn’t notice the adjacent glass door slide open.

A throat clearing startled you, sloshing the coffee in your mug. Your head whipped over to the source of the sound, gazing at the intruder. Well, intruder wasn’t quite the right word since he was over in the next balcony. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, his light brown hair sticking up at weird angles. He stood there, watching you in his pajamas while holding his own mug of what you assumed to be coffee. What caught your gaze though, was his eyes. Spectacular mossy green eyes observed you, drawing you in.

“Hey there,” he began “Sorry I scared ya.” He said as he rubbed at his neck. “Nah, it's okay,” you insisted. You glanced back into your apartment, trying to decide if you should duck back inside to avoid your neighbor. He cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him.

“I guess you're my new neighbor, huh? My name’s Dean. I would shake your hand, but I don't think the balconies are close enough for that.” He mentioned, motioning toward the gap between the balconies. Sensing that he was just trying to be nice, you decided to stay and find out more about your new _incredibly attractive_ neighbor.

You introduced yourself with a small, shy wave. His small grin reappeared, his eyes crinkling with the motion. You could tell by the cute crinkles that he smiled a lot; he was a happy person. Looking at him too long seemed to short-circuit your brain so you looked down at what remained of your coffee, wondering what to say next.

“I usually have a cup of coffee on the balcony when I can,” he blurted, looking out at the horizon. “It’s the only time I get to relax. It’s not exactly quiet where I work.”

You chuckled, looking to the horizon also. “Yeah, I get that. It’s hectic where I work too.  Though I never had a balcony to watch the sunrise on before. It’s gorgeous.”

Peeking at you out of the corner of his eye, he agreed. “Definitely gorgeous,” he mumbled, still looking at you. Smiling into his mug, he took a sip. “I work at a garage, so it’s nice to have a quiet moment before all the noise.”

Looking back at him, you try to picture him as a mechanic. He had a definite sort of ruggedness, contrasting with some of his softer features like his nose. You could definitely picture him under the hood of a car with grease smudged across his brow and his pant legs. He definitely looked better than any other mechanic you’d ever met. Hell, you’ve never seen one that didn’t at least have a beer gut.

“You know, I could actually picture you as a mechanic. You look like you belong under a hood.” He looked over at you, a contemplative look on his face. A slow smile came to his face, beaming joy out of every pore. “I love my job, I get to work on some _awesome_ cars.” His eyes almost lit up as he talked about some of the more interesting cars that came through the shop. You couldn’t help but grin at his clear enthusiasm for his work.

His smile faded as he cleared his throat and rubbed at his neck. Your brows pinched at his sudden mood change, wondering what caused it. “I’m sorry, you probably don’t want to hear all that,” he said, looking at the ground. You huffed out a laugh, “Nah, I was enjoying it. It’s always nice to hear someone talk about their passions- unless it’s history. My dad used to go on these long-winded rants about battles, and I always _hated_ it.”

Dean snickered and you were glad that his smile returned, albeit reluctant. He glanced down at his watch, his eyes widening at the time. “Holy shit, I gotta go!” he cried. His panicked eyes met yours, “Don’t you have work too?” he asked.

“Oh balls, I didn’t mean to keep you!” you gasped, facepalming. “I don’t start my new job yet, so I don’t have anywhere I need to be yet. I’m so sorry!” You drug your hand down your face, feeling awful.

“Hey, It’s okay! I’m never really late, so it should be fine. It was great meeting you,” he said, a disarming smile on his face. You blushed, shrugging. “It was nice meeting you too.” With a wave goodbye, he darted into his apartment to head to work.

* * *

After a day of organizing and just puttering around the apartment, you laid down on your bed ready to go to sleep. While you laid there, you always thought about all the things you had to do the next day or were putting off. Instead, you laid there thinking of stunning green eyes and the most charming grin. Thoughts of the handsome neighbor ran through your head as you fell asleep with a smile on your face. You had a feeling you were going to like your new place here.


	2. Pretty Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crush? What crush? Pfft.

After a few mornings, you went onto the balcony again in hopes of seeing Dean. You would've gone sooner, but you were afraid of looking too eager to see him. So every few days you would have coffee on your balcony, and most of the time Dean would join you. After a bit of back and forth, it became part of your routine to go out on the balcony for an hour or two every morning. Dean also became part of that routine quickly. The two of you would sit and talk as you sipped on your coffee. You were often more than content to just sit in companionable silence.

As you poured your morning coffee, you thought about the man next door. It was obvious that he’d had a rough time growing up from the way he talked about how good he had it now. How great it was to have even the simple things. You could respect a man who kept his nose to the grind and didn’t ask for handouts. He was a man who kept his word, too. He was a reliable, hardworking man and damn it if that wasn’t attractive as all hell.

Speaking of attractive, you could still barely look at him without feeling like your face was on fire. You could handle it if he was just a hot guy who was an asshole, but he was far from it. He could be a little gruff, but you could tell he cared deeply about people. He had to go and make it hard for you, being attractive and a good person- didn’t he?

_Asshole. Heh._

_You totally didn’t have a huge crush on him. Nope. Not even a little bit._

_Crap, you totally did. Of course you did, have you looked at him?_

Grabbing your mug, you slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony. Looking over at Dean’s balcony, you see him sipping casually at his coffee staring at the horizon. You decide not to break the silence, choosing to close your eyes for a second and breathe instead. It was so peaceful in the quiet of morning, before all the hustle and bustle of the day. A small, pleased hum left your lips.

“You start your new job tonight, right?” Dean asked. Sighing, you peeked an eye open to glance at him. Closing your eyes again, you grumbled out a ‘yep’. He hummed in acknowledgment, before speaking up again. “You said you were a bartender, right?” Opening your eyes and turning to face him, you leaned your arms against the side of the balcony. Your mug sat safely between your palms. “You tryin’ to get at something?” you asked, brow arched at him.

He rubbed at his neck as he was apt to do around you, grumbling incoherent words at the ground about who knows what. He looked somewhat disgruntled and unsure. Looking up at you from beneath his lashes, he looked so uncharacteristically shy. He took a sip from his mug then asked. “Does that mean that we won’t get to do this anymore?”

You instantly knew what he meant without him saying it. The morning meetings on the balcony.

His question blindsided you. He worried that your little routine would change. Had he only known that you would've changed your schedule around to avoid that. You only hoped it meant that he enjoyed sharing the peace of the morning with you as much as you did.

Smiling softly, you tilted your head. “I get off at 4 or 5 in the morning, and I usually have stuff to do after work. I could always have my tea with you in the morning before I head off to bed.”

His body slumped as he leaned against the side of his balcony, facing you. He grinned, relief plain on his face. “That’s great. I was hoping our little routine wouldn’t change. I like this thing we have going on,” he said, waving a finger between the two of you. You wondered if he meant something _more_ by that, and if maybe he was into you too.

Changing the subject back to work, you griped about the weird schedule you were going to have. You loved being a bartender because you always got to meet new people, and it pushed you to be more outgoing. The weird hours could be tough sometimes, but having those days off to sleep in made up for it.

“Doesn’t your boyfriend miss you with the weird hours?” Dean asked. Laughing nervously, you waved him off. “No- I don’t have a boyfriend” you squeaked. _Was he trying to find out if you were single?_

“What, _no boyfriend?_ A pretty girl like you? No way. _Not possible_ ,” he claimed.

You blushed, mumbling “Nah, no boyfriend. Haven't found a guy who can keep up with me yet.” You fiddled with your mug, trying to keep your blush down at his compliment.

_'Pretty girl'_. The way he said it made you want to believe it. That you were pretty. Most of the time, you didn’t feel like it.

He smirked at you, unable to keep his eyes off of your flushed cheeks. He couldn’t believe you didn’t have a boyfriend. You were kind, hardworking, independent, and gorgeous. What kind of man could pass all that up? An idiot, for sure.

“So tonight is your first night at the new bar?” he noted.

You raised your eyes back to his face, blush toned down at that point. “Sure is. I get to work with the owner tonight. She’s hands-on and I want to impress her,” you babbled. You were nervous, but so excited to get back to slingin’ drinks.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, pretty girl. I’m sure you will be awesome,” he assured you with a cheeky wink. “I’ve gotta get to work,” he said, glancing at his watch. “Good luck tonight.” He pushed off the side of the balcony, backing up towards the door. With a wave and a grin, he left to go to work. Leaving you dumbfounded on the balcony.

_'Pretty girl'._

His smile was enough to make you dumb, but pair that with _'pretty girl'?_ You weren't sure how you were still standing after that. He was going to be the end of you, you were sure. But you were safe here, on your separate balcony.


	3. A Bitter Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly. Things are happening, guys. So strap in and hold on tight. This may be a bumpy ride.

Every morning was the same, always spending time on the balcony with Dean. The only difference was that you drank tea and after Dean left for work, you would go to sleep. You loved the time you spent with him. You often waited all day just for the moment of peace that time on the balcony afforded you. The two of you talked about anything and everything and the more you talked, the more you liked him.

After awhile, he finally talked about his family. He told you about his dad, and how he was currently in a mental health hospital. When he was a kid, his mom died in a house fire. His dad swore that something unnatural happened, causing the fire. He became paranoid, leaving rings of salt around the house and across entry points. It got to the point where he wouldn’t leave the house and his sons were no longer taken care of properly. Lucky for them, Dean was old enough to be emancipated and became his brother Sam’s caretaker.

Dean pretty much raised his little brother. Sam went to Stanford and became a lawyer in a big firm. As Dean talked about ‘ _Sammy_ ’ he beamed, incredibly proud of his kid brother’s accomplishments. He bragged about how smart he was and how far he was going to get in the firm. It was clear that he would do anything for his brother, and that family was important to him. You admired Dean for the strength he had to have to take care of Sam, maturing faster for his brother’s sake. He was so strong, kind, and wonderful that you were falling for him. And you were falling hard.

* * *

Work was great, and you liked your coworkers. You quickly became part of their odd little family, and your boss was like an aunt to you. Harvelle’s Bar was definitely a step up from any of the other bars you’d worked in before. It was nice, clean, and felt like a second home to you. No wonder they made good money, especially with the family-run feel to the place. When you went, you felt like you were family and there were plenty of regulars too. Jake and Gus always sat at the end of the bar, and Harry always took a seat at the third booth from the front. You liked the familiarity. Since you memorized the regulars’ names, you’d made tons more in tips too.

Roy walked up to you at the bar, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. “Ash is asleep on the pool table again.”

You sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Thanks Roy. I’ll take care of him.”

He chuckled as he walked back to his booth. You walked over to the end of the bar, shouting in the direction of the pool table. “Ash! Get your ass off the pool table! We talked about this, man!” you griped.

The man in question bolted upright, sending pool balls skittering around. He had a penchant for sleeping on the pool table when he couldn’t make it all the way to his room at the back of the bar. Most regulars were used to seeing him sprawled out on the top of it, but a mullet-wearing redneck asleep wasn’t great for business.

Ash grumbled, rubbing his face as he made his way to his room. You watched until he closed the door, the wooden “Dr. Badass” sign rattling with the movement.

Getting back to the bar you grabbed your towel, wiping the hardwood top down. You were excited for the night to be over so you could have your tea with Dean. He became the highlight of your day. Wishing the night would go by quick, you checked the clock obsessively.

You were cleaning a highball glass, until someone sat on the stool in front of you. “One beer, please.” they asked. The familiarity of the voice drew your attention, looking up at green eyes. You never were this close to each other, always separated by the adjacent balconies. This close, you could see the different shades of green in his eyes.

You gasped out his name, shocked to see him. You never mentioned what bar you worked at, so you never thought about the possibility of him showing up. You set down the glass, damn near beaming at him.  
  
“Hey pretty girl” he said, using the nickname that he used for you since that day on the balcony. You heaved out a short incredulous laugh. “The hell are you doing here, Winchester?” 

He smirked at you, the turn of his mouth enough to make a girl faint. “I should be asking you that” he said, “I was just trying to get a drink and here you are.”

You braced your arms on the hardwood top, leaning in towards him- closer than you’d ever been. You dropped your voice to a low conspiratorial whisper, “Just for that, I’m not giving you a freebie. Gotta pay for your own beer tonight.”

He laughed one of those full-bodied laughs, clearly amused by you. He leaned in close enough that you could smell him, a mixture of leather and motor oil with a musk that was all Dean. “What if I tell a joke that makes you laugh? Can I get that beer then?” he asked. 

You held your chin, pretending to think over his proposition before going “Sure.”

He straightened in his seat, still leaning forward with his eyes fixed to your face. “Alright, pretty girl. How do you tell the difference between a snowman and a snowwoman?”

Managing to not blush wildly at the nickname, you thought about it. You had no idea what the answer could be, saying as much.

His congenial smile widened, reveling in his cleverness. “ _Snowballs_.”

Taking a second to process, you stared at him. Despite your best efforts, you belly-laughed while clutching your middle. As your laughter died down you looked up at him, a shit-eating grin plastered on. 

“Alright, you can have a beer on me” you said, popping open an El Sol and sliding it over to him. He picked it up, tipping it in cheers to you before taking a swig. He hummed in satisfaction before a small smile spread over his face.

“My favorite beer. How’d you know?”

You tried holding back your lopsided smile, only replying with a “Lucky guess”.

He gazed at you, looking like he was about to say something before the two of you got interrupted. A girl with long dark hair came up to Dean, wrapping her arms around him before pressing a long kiss to his lips. Your eyes went wide at the sight, confused beyond belief. You weren’t quite sure what was going on. Dean pulled away from the kiss, his eyes flicking over to you and back to the girl nervously. He looked sheepish, refusing to now meet your eyes. The girl looked unphased by your presence, focused solely on Dean.

“Hey, Babe. You mind telling me why we’re at this crappy hole-in-the-wall bar? I thought we were going to that new bar, Huske’s?” she asked.

You weren’t quite sure if you wanted to punch her or run away. There was definitely a relationship going on between her and Dean, and she just insulted Harvelle’s. You loved the place and hated to hear someone badmouth it.

Your heart twisted when Dean’s eyes met yours again.

“Lis, you remember I was telling you about my neighbor? This is her.”

She looked at you before breathing out an “ _Oh… yeah._ ”

Before you had a chance to say anything, Ash appeared at the end of the bar demanding his standard PBR. Taking the opportunity to collect yourself, you pulled out a can from the small refrigerator under the bar. Your hand was shaking as you popped the can open before serving it.

Ash looked up at you, brow furrowed low over his eyes. Breathing out a shaky breath, you braced your hands against the bar trying to remember to take in full breaths.

Your boss Ellen walked in through the back room, stopping at your side. She looked at you curiously, asking Ash what what was going on.

“I dunno. She was talkin’ to that guy then she came over here lookin’ like she was ‘bout to pass out.” Ash drawled.

“I think I might, actually.” you croaked out.

Ellen grabbed you, pulling you into the back room. Setting you down on a chair, she pushed your head between your knees telling you to stay like that until it passed. She left you on your own, heading back out to cover for you at the bar.

Mentally thanking her, you tried to process everything.

_Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth._

Dean has a girlfriend. A girlfriend. Damn.

_In through your nose, out through your mouth._

You were sure that there was something between the two of you.

_Through your nose, through your mouth._

All the flirting- was it nothing to him?

_Nose, then mouth._

You felt like you wanted to cry. It didn’t take much for you to fall for the jerk. He was too good to be true- too wonderful. Of course there had to be a catch. He was a catch.

Sighing, you straightened up slowly. Thankful the nausea had waned, you concocted a story of food poisoning and went home early.

* * *

That night you laid in bed, miserable. You didn’t bother saying goodbye to Dean before you left for home, and didn’t bother trying to meet on the balcony either. Why hadn’t he ever mentioned his girlfriend before? Was he hiding that from you? He told you all about his parents and his life, but never bothered to mention the girl he was seeing.

Suffice it to say you didn’t get much sleep that night.


	4. What Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just bear with me on this one. Everything happens for a reason and when a door closes, another one opens.

For a while, you debated with yourself. Should you spend time on the balcony like normal? Pretend that everything was fine and that you weren’t incredibly disappointed that he had a girlfriend? Or maybe avoid him altogether.  
  
Truth was, you didn’t know how to act around him anymore. Both of you were always casually flirting all the time. Now that you knew he was taken, you knew you couldn’t do that anymore. If he was your boyfriend, you wouldn’t appreciate some girl flirting with him all the time.

She seemed like everything you weren’t. She was pretty, slim, and most likely did yoga like every other 20-something year old woman. She probably ate salads and had an annoying little dog. Practically the opposite of you.

You were a meat and potatoes kind of girl who loved burgers, never set foot in a gym, and would never touch some fruity drink dyed some outrageous color. You owned a truck and never left home without your knife and a handkerchief.

You knew that comparing yourself to her was like comparing pineapples to bananas. You were just completely different and thinking about it would change nothing. It would take some time, but you were sure that you wanted to have Dean in your life even as a friend. Sure it sucked, but he was a great person and you enjoyed spending time with him.

* * *

You took a few days off work for your mental health, also avoiding the balcony. You needed the time to let it sink in, and get yourself right. You couldn’t help but feel that you were being a little childish, taking it out on Dean for having a girlfriend. The funny thing about feelings was that they always demanded to be felt. Taking time out to let yourself feel them was never a bad thing. So taking the time made you feel better about the whole situation.  
  
Grabbing your mug, you headed towards the balcony. You stood by the glass doors, taking a deep breath.  
  
 _It’s time. You can do it._

_He’s still the same person._  
  
You paused with your hand on the handle at the sound of his harried voice. Muffled by the glass and shades, you could tell his nerves were frayed by the short sentences he was using. Drawing open the door, your curiosity carried you onto the balcony.

Dean stood there in his pajamas, running his hand through his hair repeatedly. His other hand held his phone to his ear as he talked- _more like argued_ \- with the other person on the line. He dropped his hand from his hair as he listened, crossing his arm over the other to hold his bicep. He paced back and forth, voicing his disagreement with the caller. He ran his hand down his face before finally turning towards your balcony. He paused at the sight of you, his stormy eyes clashing against yours. Before you could turn tail and run back inside, he raised a finger asking you to _‘stay there’_.

Trying to give him his privacy, you turned to look at the sunrise. Trying to focus on the beautiful gradient of color versus the argument, you gazed at the way the blue melted into the warm gold of the sun.

“Well not anymore!” he shouted into the phone before hanging up and chucking his phone into his apartment. You looked over at him with wide eyes, unused to hearing him shout.

“Are you okay?” you asked, slightly afraid of his answer.

The rigidness in his body seemed to melt away as he turned to look you in the eyes again. His shoulders slumped as he took a shuddering breath. Closing his eyes, he slowly nodded.

You stood there watching him for what felt like an hour, ready to say anything to make him feel better. He tilted his head back finally, eyes still closed and heaved out a wry laugh.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you suggested. “It’s cool if you don’t want to, but it might make you feel better.”

He finally looked at you, a blank expression on his face. You worried for a second that you overstepped your boundaries. His lips curled at the edges before falling.

“It’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about it. What about you? Are you okay? Your boss said you took off early because you weren’t feeling well.”

You dropped your gaze at the mention of your phantom illness. Crossing your arms, you lied. “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling too good. Had to take a few days off,” you claimed, scratching your neck with your pointer finger.

“She- I- We broke up.”

Your eyes shot up, trying to discern the look on his face. From the look in his eyes, he seemed rattled. You were at a loss for words. Somehow, you felt that you were the problem. That you were the reason that they broke up. It was like a genie granted your wish somehow, but you weren’t satisfied. You had to fix it.

“You could get her back. Get her some flowers and do… something.” you suggested.

He looked at you long and hard before shaking his head.

“No.. it’s not something that can be fixed like that.” He rubbed his neck, looking down at the ground. “I’m not sure it’s something I should try fixing.” he breathed.

You looked at him, heartbroken. You’d go find her and force them back together if it made him happy. That was all you wanted. Was for him to be happy.

“Is there anything I can do?” you asked, feeling helpless.

He looked at you with a soft, fond look on his face. “Nah. I think I’m going to stay in and watch something. What better time to binge watch old westerns than the weekend, huh?”

* * *

You spent the night tossing and turning, the creak of the mattress filling the quiet. There was a small part of you that was happy that Dean and what’s-her-face broke up, and you couldn’t feel any more terrible for that.


	5. Frozen Foods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one kicked my butt. I almost didn’t have it written in time, but I pushed myself to get it done so y’all wouldn’t have to wait. The next one is going to be mostly from Dean’s POV. If you're interested in the pie described, check out this recipe. I've made it plenty of times before, and man is it good.

It was five days since you last saw him. Not that you were keeping track. No, you were not worried about the man next door. You weren’t always checking to see if he was going to be on the balcony that day. Or even wondering how many westerns it was feasibly possible for one man to watch. Not that you could hear the tv through the walls unless you put your ear to them.

Ugh, you were hopeless. And concerned. _There- you said it._

Most mornings you debated whether to go knock on his door and just check on him. You were friends, right? Friends did that when they worried about each other.

You always talked yourself out of it, though. It was always too weird, too personal. You never set foot in his apartment and felt like just showing up was like breaking this bubble that your relationship was in. It was too risky.

So there you stood in front of his door today, hand poised to knock. Sighing, you walked down the hall and called the elevator. If you were out, you might as well get some grocery shopping done.

* * *

You always liked shopping, but your wallet never did. Your mom taught you the importance of comparison shopping, so you always managed to get by without spending too much. Too bad you had a sweet tooth. That’s what always made your wallet cry.

You loved having some sort of dessert most nights, and you always hated that pre-prepared crap. It didn’t hurt that you loved baking too, always a batch of random cookies stowed in your cupboard. Too bad it was the middle of summer, so you had to forego the baked good in favor of refrigerated goodies.

That’s where the pink lemonade pie came into the picture. It was easy to make, didn’t have to bake, and was a fantastic summer treat.

After you had all the other items piled into your basket, you headed to the frozen section to find the concentrated pink lemonade mix. Halfway down the aisle, you noticed him.

There he was, standing there in a navy work shirt with black smudges all over and his name embroidered in red over his pocket. His jeans worn at the knees and faded from wear. It was obvious he’d come straight from work at the garage. He didn't bother to tidy up before going shopping. One hand carried his basket and the other held the frozen foods door open, staring listlessly at the array of frozen pizzas.

Torn between acting like you hadn’t noticed him and walking up to him, you decided on the latter. It was time to pull on your big-girl panties and check on him. You were his friend, and you were sure that he needed one right about now.

Walking up to him, you waited for him to notice you. He just stood there staring at the pizzas with the door open, letting the frigid air escape the cooler. Noticing he was looking at the diet pizzas, you couldn’t help but make a noise of disgust.

His eyes shot over to you, finally aware of your presence. His face held a bone-weary look, as though he hadn't slept well in a while. Grease marks adorned his skin, smeared across his forehead and stubbled jaw.

“You know, those pizzas are gross, right? Like, what’s the point of a diet pizza? If you’re really on a diet, you wouldn’t eat a pizza. You’d eat a salad or some other crap.” you rambled on, waving your hand dismissively towards the offending frozen items.

He gazed at you as if you’d spoken in a foreign language, leaving an uneasy pit to form in your stomach. All at once, as if coming out of a trance, he blinked owlishly at you. He shook his head, brows drawn together in confusion.

_“What?”_ he asked.

“I was just saying that diet pizzas are… You know what? Nevermind. I can save my opinions on diet frozen pizzas for another time. You okay? Looks like you’ve been standing there long enough to start growing moss.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. Taking a step back, he let the door swing shut with a ‘whap’ and turned to face you.

“I’ve just been kind of…” he trailed off with a slight shrug.

“Staying up until 2am watching John Wayne and Clint Eastwood westerns?” you supplied.

His lips twitched at your reply, trying to suppress his smile at how well you knew him. “Yeah, I like westerns okay?”

You giggled, arching your brow. “I think that would be an understatement, Dean. Of course you’re no true western fan until you’ve seen the Rifleman and Bat Masterson series.”

His smile broke free, lighting his whole face up in a warm glow. “You like westerns too?”

You rolled your eyes. “Duh. My dad loved John Wayne, so I’ve seen most of his movies. But it sparked that fascination with cowboys and the old west.”

You weren’t sure that his smile could’ve gotten bigger, but you were definitely wrong as his grin split his face. He chuckled, muttering a ‘huh’. You felt the need to make sure he was feeling better, only a little relieved since he started smiling at you.

“You’re okay though, _right?_ ” you asked.

His smiled relaxed into a softer version, gazing at you intently. “Yeah, I’m doing even better since I bumped into you pretty girl.”

You blushed, biting your lip to keep your smile from taking over your face. Looking at him, you felt a seriousness fall over you. You stepped forward, grabbing Dean’s forearm and looking into his olive green eyes. “She’s stupid for letting you go. Any girl would be lucky to have you. You’re a good man, Dean Winchester.” You maintained eye contact, trying to show him you meant every word you said. That he would understand and not shrug it off. He just smiled at you, gratuity shining in his eyes.

You let go of his arm, immediately missing the warmth of his skin under your hand. Eyeing a smudge across his cheek, you lifted your hand and pushed your thumb across the grease. Rubbing at it seemed to make it worse but you carried on scrubbing at it, not noticing that Dean had practically stopped breathing.

When you grabbed his arm, Dean swore he felt lighter. But this? This was something else. He felt this peace wash over him, as though everything was alright in the world.

Your tongue peeked out between your lips as you wiped away the smudge. Satisfied with your work, you stepped back and pulled your faded red hanky from your pocket. Setting your basket down, you wiped the grease off your thumb.

You looked up to see Dean watching you, an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” you asked as you scrubbed at the dark splotch on your thumb.

He cleared his throat, rubbing his neck and mumbling out an ‘uh, nothing’.

Satisfied with how much grease you managed to wipe off, you tucked your hanky back into your pocket and picked up your basket. The quiet between the two of you felt heavier than usual, as if you were waiting for something to happen. You knew it would take awhile to get your dinner ready, so you knew you needed to check out soon.

“So, I’ll see you in the morning?” you said, backing up towards the lemonade. “I have to get going soon, but it was great seeing you.” With a lifted hand, you waved him goodbye as you turned and opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the pink lemonade for your recipe. A hand pulled the door open wider, drawing your attention to the tall man beside you. Dean stood there holding the door open for you, looking hesitantly into your eyes.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked.

Your eyes widened as you gaped at him. _Did he- did he just?_

The container you held seeped ice cold into your hand, not enough to distract you from Dean. Sensing your disquiet, he rushed to reassure you. “I’m making burgers and it always makes more than I can eat at a time, so really you’d be doing me a favor.” His easy smile calmed you, but his flimsy excuse made you pause. You stood there gaping at him, the smile slowly slipping from his face. “You don’t have to,” he started “If you don’t want to, you know.”

That was what snapped you out of it. After dropping the lemonade in your basket, you took the door from his hand and closed it. Bracing the basket between both your hands, you gazed at him. “I’d like that a lot, Dean.” you said, biting at your lip to try to control your smile. “I’d like to make some dessert, so why don’t I meet you at your place? I was going to make a pie, unless you don’t like ‘em.”

A grin broke out on his face, pleased that you took him up on his offer. At the mention of pie, though, a certain sparkle appeared in his eyes. “I _love_ pie, pretty girl. What kind are you making?” he asked, leaning forward to peer into your basket.

“Pink Lemonade. Since it’s hot, I thought it would be a nice treat.” you gushed, happy to share your enthusiasm for the dessert. You pointed out the ingredients, excitement pouring out of you as you talked about how you made the pie and how yummy it was. You were sure you were oversharing, but Dean seemed to enjoy your rambling about the pie. As you wrapped up your babbling, you pushed your hair behind your ear as you made eye contact with him again. His eyes shined in quiet mirth as he watched your cheeks slightly pink in embarrassment.

“Sorry. I was rambling,” you apologized.

Dean chuckled, waving you off. “No, I love hearing you talk about things you’re interested in. I could listen to you all day, pretty girl.” Dean beamed at you, bright enough to knock a girl off her feet. Softly smiling back at him, his smile cranked up a few notches. “Why don’t you come over at 7 with your pie, and I’ll have the burgers ready by then?” Nodding, you agreed. “Awesome,” he breathed before you parted, much more excited about the prospect of dinner than you were earlier.


	6. Burgers & Pie

As you mixed pie filling, your mind trailed to thoughts of tonight. Dean asked you over to his place next door for burgers, and you were working on the pink lemonade pie for dessert. When he invited you over, he didn’t specify it as a date and you were overthinking the situation already. As soon as you got home from the grocery store, you’d started making the pie and thinking about what to wear. You didn’t want to completely change what you were wearing, but didn’t want to wear anything too casual. You knew you were putting too much thought into it, but your insecurity was nagging you from the back of your mind.

As you filled the pie crusts, you decided that you’d just wear something simple. Your summer wardrobe consisted of jean shorts and tees, so you decided to put on your favorite tee with the shorts you were already wearing. Placing the pies in the fridge, you changed.

* * *

Pie in hand, you knocked on Dean’s door. Shifting from foot to foot, you heard shuffling from behind the door. A loud ‘thump’ followed by a low heartfelt curse sounded before the door swung open like a flash, revealing a flustered Dean.

“Hi. You okay? I heard a noise,” you said, looking past him into his apartment. The tips of his ears pinked in slight embarrassment. “You heard that?” he asked lowly.

You giggled at his boyish demeanor. Shoving the pie to his chest, you smiled softly at him. “Here’s the pie. You wanna invite me in?”

He huffed a sigh of relief at the change in conversation, backing out of the doorway to let you in. His place was nice and neat for a single guy. His walls were bare except for the few picture frames hung along the farthest wall. Most were pictures of Dean and a shaggy-haired boy you assumed was Sam, Dean often teasing about cutting his long locks. The only picture that was any different was of a blonde woman, smiling at something off camera. Looking over at Dean who had retreated to his kitchen, you could see a resemblance. His mom was beautiful in an effortless way, a trait she evidently passed on to her son.

Looking around more, you noticed his mismatched furniture. A lump on the large blue couch under one of his pillows caught your attention. Pulling back the cushion, you uncovered what seemed to be laundry stashed away. Looking back at Dean to see if he saw you, you quickly replaced the pillow with a sly smile at his unawareness.

The amazing smell wafting in from the kitchen was mouth-watering. If his burgers tasted anything like they smelled, you were definitely in for a treat. As you trailed into the kitchen, the yummy smell enveloped you. At the sound of your rumbling tummy, Dean turned from his stove to give you a grin. “I hope you’re ready for the best burgers you’ve ever eaten, pretty girl.”

Stepping closer, you looked over his shoulder to the burgers he was plating up. They looked gorgeous. “Is that bacon?” you asked. His answering smile was all you needed. Dean handed you a full plate and pointed you in the direction of the cutlery. Sitting down at his dining table, he plopped down next to you. Going in for the burger, you raised it to your lips to take a bite. Your eyes cut across to Dean, sitting there watching you. Pulling back the burger, you gave him a look. “What?” He waved his hand at you as if to say “go on”, waiting to see what you thought before letting himself dig in. Shrugging, you bit a chunk out of your burger.

You loved burgers, but you had yet to eat one that felt like a religious experience when you ate it. Until now. Moaning around the bite of heaven, you closed your eyes to savor it. Your enjoyment of food was never appreciated by guys, but when you opened your eyes again to look at Dean all you saw was awe. Swallowing, you jabbed your pointer finger toward the burger still in your hand. “Dean, I thought you were exaggerating about the best burger ever. This really is the best burger I ever had. I just want to shove the whole thing in my mouth!” You solidified your remark with another bite into your burger, eating with gusto.

He gazed at you, a smile curling his mouth at the way you attacked the burger. He was so used to women eating salads and chewing daintily that he appreciated the fact that you ate like you enjoyed it. He especially enjoyed the fact that you liked his food so much.

Dinner went by without much conversation. It was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. He enjoyed hearing the small happy noises you emitted, letting him know you were enjoying your food. The two of you also kept sneaking glances at each other, both enjoying the company shared.

Dean made quick work of cutting and serving the pie, excited to eat it. Watching as he scooped a bite into his mouth as quickly as possible, he closed his eyes. Savoring the pie as you did with his burger, he moaned around the bite. “This is some good pie. I’ve never had this kind before. It's awesome,” he spoke around the food stuffed in his cheek like a cute little squirrel. How he made talking with his mouth full attractive, you had no idea. Somehow he pulled it off. By the time you two finished off the pie, he already praised your pie-making skills to no end. He was not kidding when he said he loved pie.

After you finished eating you reached your arms out over your head, stretching like a cat. A content sigh left your lips, feeling full. “This was nice.” you commented. “Thank you, Dean. That was an excellent meal.”

He looked at you, brow furrowed. “You leaving already? I was thinking we could watch ‘Blue Steel’ or ‘The Lucky Texan.” You smiled, bittersweet. “I have to be at the Roadhouse in the morning for a shipment. I’d like to take you up on that offer another time, though.”

Dean smiled fondly. “Well, you’re welcome over anytime.” He walked you to the door, pausing as you turned to face him. Something passed between the two of you, an unknown or unnamed feeling as you gazed at each other. His lazy smile had you smiling back at him, and you briefly rued the fact that he could make you smile with ease.

“Don’t use your charm smile on me,” you said, making his smile twitch in amusement. “Charm smile? I didn’t know I had one,” he teased. Scoffing, you gave him a sly smile. “Of course you do. You’re using it on me right now. And you need to cut it out.”

He stepped closer; impossibly close. “Do I?” he asked softly- lazy charming smile still in place. He was so close his smell enveloped you as a definite energy sparked between the two of you. Your breath caught in your chest, waiting for one of you to do something- anything. The sparkle in his green eyes said volumes as he looked down at you as you bit your lip. He reached out slowly, as if you were a wild animal about to bolt. Before he made contact, the old lady down the hall opened her door. She had what appeared to be a trashbag full of wicker baskets and was carrying them noisily down the hall.

The moment between you and Dean broken, you said a quick goodbye and beat a hasty retreat. Flustered, you closed your door considering what just happened.

Dean was about to kiss you. There was no doubt in your mind about that. The look in his eyes was proof enough. You bit your lip trying to suppress your smile, bright as a tomato as you got ready for bed.


	7. Leap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this one! This is my first time writing any Benny, my sweet cajun vampirate. There’s only one more chapter left after this! I might make a epilogue chapter if it’s requested a lot, but other than that we’re starting to wrap this baby up!

The following weeks were normal again. Dean and you spent time on the balcony together, laughing and teasing. It was all just normal. You were happy to have Dean back to his happy flirty self, but you couldn’t help but feel an underlying tension between you two.

Dean was going to kiss you. Because of the old lady down the hall, you didn’t get your kiss. There were many nights that you spent thinking about what would have happened if she hadn’t interrupted. Would he have kissed you hard and fast- his lips firm and reassuring against your own? Maybe soft and imploring- plying your mouth open against his with a soft slow lick at your bottom lip?

You were definitely getting romantically frustrated, especially since Dean never brought it up. It was even worse since he kept inviting you over because he ‘made too much to eat by himself’. You didn’t buy that for a minute, but you took the invitation anyway just to spend time with him. Plus the man could cook ten times better than you could, why turn down free food and good company? If something didn’t happen soon, you were going to lose your damn mind.

* * *

Another day, another punch-in. Dean walked into the garage, a smile on his face and a pep in his step. He walked up to the Oldsmobile he was working on, whistling away.

“What has you so happy, chief?”

Dean looked over to Benny, a rag in his hands and a brow raised. Dean smiled, shrugging him off. “Nothing. Just feeling good for once.”

The look on Benny’s face let him know he didn’t buy into the lie at all. “Ya know it could be my imagination, but I think it’s that pretty neighbor of yours.”

Dean’s brows rose. “What makes you think that?” he asked, picking up a wrench before lifting the hood.

“Remember that time you came overta my place? Drunk as a skunk, bangin’ on my door.”

He fiddled around in the hood, thinking. “I remember waking up on your couch with a giant fuckin’ headache. Other than that, no.”

Benny chuckled. “You were going on and on about how happy she makes ya and how you don’t deserve her. You said her name, but it sure as hell wasn’t Lisa.”

Dean went uncharacteristically red in the face as he loosened some bolts. He grumbled under his breath, cursing that bottle of Jägermeister he drank.

Benny walked over, leaning against the car. “I know you been askin’ her over each time you ‘make too much food’ but you gotta just ask her out already. If she’s spendin’ that much time with you, I’m sure she won’t say no.”

Not bothering to look over, Dean mumbled a reply too quietly for him to hear. “What was that, brother? You gotta speak up.”

Dean rolled his eyes, bracing for the teasing. “She’s too good for me. Plus, I don’t want to mess up things if she doesn’t want to be more.”

His father did a number on him, making him afraid of being alone. He knew that was most of the reason he even bothered dating Lisa.  Hell, he was surprised he even stayed in the relationship as long as he did. Lisa only hung on him, caring for his looks and nothing else. When you came along though, he knew he didn’t want to settle for how things were.

He heard someone once say that people accept the love that they think they deserve. Thinking on it now, he was sure of that. He stayed in that awful relationship because he thought he didn’t deserve any better. Since you came along though, you made him feel better about himself. Like he was worth something. Every smile he managed to coax from you filled the hole in his heart. It now overflowed, spreading warmth and radiating joy through every one of his pores. Everyone who knew him saw the change in him.

Any extended amount of time he spent without seeing you was awful, and he couldn’t imagine his life without you now. He wanted to make your life better the way you did for him. All he could think of was kissing you like he would have that day before the old lady down the hall interrupted.

“Dean?” Benny called, interrupting the thought of your lips on his. He nodded, letting him know he was listening. “I know you well enough to know how much happier she makes you. You don’t talk about this girl like you did Lisa. Lisa was just a distraction. But this girl? She’s something special, I c’n tell.” He stepped closer, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “You deserve someone who makes you happy, brother. Ya gotta take that leap, man. A girl as great as her? Not every guy is going to be so stupid as to pass her over, buddy. Get your ass in gear.”

* * *

Dean spent the rest of his day thinking about what Benny said. He thought of his future, and what he wanted. In every iteration, he imagined himself with you. He thought about late nights spent on the couch watching Dr. Sexy reruns. You’d tease him for his taste in tv before sitting next to him, curling his arm around your shoulders as you settled into his side.

Maybe he would spend hours driving around aimlessly with the windows rolled down. You would sit in the passenger’s seat, hair scattering with the breeze as you hummed to one of his many cassettes playing from the speakers. A smile would play on his face as he glanced at you, eyes closed just enjoying the warm sunlight washing over your face.

He liked the idea of you laying in bed next to him, hair haloed on the pillow. You would draw close to him on the especially cold nights, burying your nose into his neck as you stole his warmth. Pressing his head to yours he would breathe in the smell of your strawberry shampoo before ghosting his lips over your forehead. He would press soft kisses to your skin, trying not to wake you. You would softly sigh against him, settling your body into his even further.

His favorite was the thought of waking up, the bed empty. Padding to the kitchen, he would see you through the shades standing on the balcony. Pulling open the door, he would wrap his arms around your waist from behind. You would lean back into him, the weight reassuring. Sipping your coffee, you would enjoy the sunrise before setting your mug down and turning in his arms. Standing on tip-toe, you would press your soft and pliant cream-and-sugar mouth to his. Every time it would steal his breath and make him weak in the knees, unlike any other girl he’d ever kissed. He imagined that after years, your kisses would never grow old to him. Always managing to bring him to his knees if you so desired.

He would do anything to make you happy, and he had to face the fact that he was absolutely fuckin’ nuts for you.

He knew what he had to do. He just hoped that the words would come to him, and that when the time came he had the courage to do it.

To leap.


	8. Loverboy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is incredibly long. Not sure if that's a 'sorry' or a 'you're welcome'. Also there's some harsh language and some physical assault in this chapter.

The hustle and bustle in the bar relaxed you, the hum of voices always soothing you. You enjoyed the quiet of your apartment, but it couldn’t compare to the sounds of a bar. When night hit, the bar came to life. Friends meeting for drinks, dates cozying up over cocktails, and the occasional group of frat boys who just wanted to get smashed. You wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Your boss Ellen became almost like a surrogate mom to you. She was always making sure you were okay, often inviting you over for dinner or sending you home with food. Between her and Dean, you were sure you’d never have to cook again in your life, except for the desserts you always made to say thanks in return.

Ellen could be standoffish at times, but she always looked out for you. She was currently standing next to you behind the bar, shooting a hard look at the group of frat guys talking loudly in the corner. They’d been drinking for awhile, becoming boisterous as time went on.  Their booming laughter washed over the bar, setting your nerves on edge. So far they’d spent the night being obnoxious and rude. The only reason Ellen hadn’t thrown them out yet was because they were buying beers not only for themselves, but for others as well.

Crinkling her nose at them, Ellen turned to you. She elbowed your side, smirking at you. “Hey girlie. You haven’t told me how loverboy is doing yet.”

In the rush of the night, you hadn’t had a chance to talk much. You seemed to always be talking about Dean though, whenever you did get the chance. Ellen of course had to take the opportunity to tease you, calling him ‘loverboy’. You long since gave up trying to correct her, letting the nickname stick.

“He’s good. He’s probably gonna invite me over again tomorrow. He was saying something about a new mushroom burger recipe he wanted to try.”

She gave you one of her patented looks- an eyebrow raised for full effect. “You’ve been talking about this guy for weeks now. If he’s so great why hasn’t he asked you out yet? Does he have a head injury or is he just stupid?"

You chuckled, flattered at the sentiment. “Ellen, he just got out of a relationship. I don’t want to start something if he isn’t over her yet. Besides, it isn’t like he’s really shown any interest in me anyway.”

“Girl, you're eating over at his place more often than not. If a man is spending that much time on you, he's interested”, she said. You blush and look down, “Yeah, well... shut up.” You say grinning softly to yourself.

A hand lands on the bartop, startling the two of you out of conversation. One of the frat boys from the group stood there, cash pressed to the hardwood. “Hey, princess. Why don’t you get us another pitcher of beer?” He winked at you, trying to butter you up unsuccessfully. You mentally cringed at the use of the pet name but let it slide, along with the failed attempt at flirting. He looked like some rich spoiled kid whose entire wardrobe came from Old Navy. The metaphorical cherry on top was the ballcap sitting backwards on his head.

Ellen gave you a supportive wink, letting you pour the pitcher of beer. Handing it over to the guy, he held onto your hand gripped to the pitcher.

“Hey baby, what time do you get off? We could go back to my place”, he murmured, obviously buzzed. Your brows lifted at his forwardness as you tried to extract yourself from his grip. His hand held tight, almost daring you to wrench it from his grasp. What irked you most about his attempt at being charming was his aggressive undertone. You flattened your expression, giving him nothing to work off of. “I’m not interested,” you said flatly.

His face screwed up slightly before letting go of your hand. He grabbed the pitcher, winking at you. “You will be,” he said, as if guaranteeing himself that you would change your tune.

As if.

* * *

You were in the back grabbing ice, watching curiously as Ellen blew in through the front. She zeroed in on you, grabbing your arm and hauling you toward the door.

“What the hell, Ellen? Where’s the fire?” you complained. She just angled you to look out into the front at the bar. “Do you see that guy sitting there?” she asked. You scanned the bar, wondering what the hell she was playing at. Your eyes skimmed over a few regulars before tripping up over the sight of one man sitting there, forearms braced against the wood of the bar. A smile crawled its way onto your face at the sight of him. He wore the plaid shirt that you loved to see him in over a green tee. The t-shirt made the green of his eyes pop even more, making him look incredibly handsome in the warm light of the bar.

Ellen side-eyed you, humming out an ‘mmmhmm’. Your eyes shifted to her, hands going up in a shrug. “What?” you asked. Her eyes narrowed, scrutinizing you. “You know what.”

You heaved a sigh. “Ellen, what do you want me to do? Jump him in front of the regulars?” She pursed her lips, wobbling her head side to side as if considering that plan. Huffing out a laugh, you raised your eyebrows. “No way! That ain’t happening!”

“Why don’t you at least take an hour or so out and talk? Take him to that diner you love. Tell him how much you like him and kiss his stupid pretty face.” she said, gesturing towards his face.

“I don’t know if I can just tell him. I don’t want to mess this thing between us up.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head at you. “He makes you happy. Happy beyond belief. Don’t you think he’s worth that risk?”

You nodded slowly, looking back at him. He looked nervous and fidgety, rolling the ring he always wore between his fingers. That man was so worth the effort. Worth the risk. So kind and sweet, that you just had to try.

Ellen pushed at you from behind, whispering in your ear. “Take an hour or two. You can do it.”

Pushing through the door, you headed straight to Dean. His eyes lifted, clashing against yours. His charming smile spread across his face at the sight of you, settling the butterflies that fluttered wildly in your stomach.

The pair of you just sort of gazed at each other, in your own little world. Exchanging soft hellos, the two of you continued to just smile at each other. Searching for something to say, you only come up with the first thing in your mind.

“Can I get you something to drink? Maybe an El Sol?” In all honesty, you just wanted an excuse to fiddle with something. To distract your racing mind. “No- yes. Wait- no.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes. Pushing a breath out through his pursed lips he met your eyes again. “Nah, I’m good pretty girl.” His smile wavered, worrying you. Something just seemed off about him.

Fidgety, you poured him a glass of icewater. Setting the glass down in front of him, beads of condensation dripped down onto the hardwood of the bar. Trying to set him at ease, you winked telling him “Water’s on the house”. The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile before he lifted the glass to his lips, taking a long drag of cold water. Leaning your forearms onto the bar, you waited for him to speak up. As he set the glass back down, he ran his finger over the condensation collecting on its sides. He obviously came here for a reason, and you had a nagging feeling that he needed a push to get him to tell you what was bothering him.

“Dean?” you asked, ducking your head in an effort to meet his eyes. He looked up at you from under his long eyelashes, looking shy. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” you told him. Sighing, he adjusted his posture. He sat straight up, about to speak before slumping on his stool again. Biting your lip, you looked over your shoulder toward Ellen. She flicked her hands at you in a ‘go on’ motion, obviously urging you to head out with him. Looking back at Dean, lip still between your teeth, he gazed at you hard before huffing.

“I had a whole thing I was going to say, and I- it’s just too- Man, I’m shit at this.” he grumbled. You could tell whatever he was talking about was important, but you couldn’t help your amusement at his floundering.

“How about this-” you started, “Ellen said I could take a break. Why don’t you and I go to this little diner I love that serves the best pie and talk. Just you and me. How about it?” You finished with a soft encouraging smile.

He smiled back, about to answer you but was cut off by a loud disbelieving “What?”. Off to the side, you saw the jerk from earlier stomping toward you. His face was stormy, unhappiness plain to see on his face. “I ask you out and you turn me down immediately, but you’ll ask this douche out instead? What the fuck?” Dean turned, brows furrowed at the insolence of the real douche in the situation. Wanting to avoid any unpleasantness, you decided to speak up.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s my decision. I’m sorry, I’m just not interested.” Hoping that was enough to placate the jerk, you put down your bar towel and gestured to Ellen that you were leaving. Walking around the bar to Dean, you stopped in front of him. “So, what do you say, wanna go?”

He smiled and nodded, about to stand up before Mr. Jerkface decided he hadn’t had enough rejection for the night. Grabbing your arm painfully, he hauled you toward him. His breath smelled of the cheap beer he’d been drinking all night as he spoke. “Why the fuck do you want to go out with him and not me, bitch? I’m ten times more handsome than that asshole.”

You didn’t get a chance to say anything as Dean pushed his way between the both of you, pushing him off of you. Dean towered over him, getting in his face and looking scary as all hell with the thunderous look on his face. “Let’s get two things straight buddy,” he started, “One- Don’t you ever touch her again. Two- _Don’t you ever touch her again_.”

You stood behind Dean, tears pricking your eyes as you held your arm close to your chest. It throbbed in time with your heartbeat, and you were sure that an ugly bruise was already forming from the trauma.

Dean stood there, shielding you and glaring down at the man stupid enough to lay a finger on you. Barely restrained fury simmered beneath his green eyes, daring the man to go for you again. Lucky for him, he made the right choice. The look in Dean’s eyes surely persuaded the guy, letting him know he had no qualms about beating his ass. Mr. Douche turned and pulled out two twenties, slapping them down on the bar. Grumbling, he left the bar.

Dean turned to you, hands immediately at your shoulders. Running his hands over you, checking you over, he pulled your arm away from your chest to inspect. He held it gingerly, turning it this way and that, inspecting the purple marks starting to mottle your skin. His face settled into a deep frown as you breathed deeply, trying to calm your shredded nerves. His inspection finished, he let go of your arm to put his hands on each side of your face. At his touch, you closed your eyes to the soft reassurance. Taking a slow breath, you opened your eyes and looked back into his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, thumb grazing over the soft ridge of your cheekbone. The soft look in his eyes had you nodding, eager to reassure him that you were fine. “You’re sure?” Nodding, you placed your hand over his.

“Nothing some pie can’t fix.” you squeaked, trying for a smile. Doubt clouded his eyes but he nodded, choosing to not press the issue. Shifting, he let go of your face and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he steered you out of the bar and down the road toward the diner.

Silence lingered as you walked, neither of you feeling like saying anything about what just transpired. Dean pressed against your side protectively, you reveled in the warm press of him. His hand pressed to your arm, his thumb rubbing against the skin exposed there. As you reached the door of the diner, he reached around you to pull the door open. Ushering you in ahead of him, he stayed close behind.

The old 40’s diner had a total of four people in it, including staff. The old red vinyl booths faded with age and chrome finish on the edges of the tables dulled with use. Dean guided you to a booth, a hand at the small of your back. Settling into the seats, the waitress approached you.

Mandy was always the waitress who took your order, and as she looked to your companion her eyebrows rose exponentially. You never came here with anyone, but you came constantly and always had the pie of the day special. She knew your order by heart by the second week you came, only asking as a courtesy. She stood there appreciating the good-looking man opposite you, as she waited for your order.

“I’ll have two of the usual, Mandy. Thanks.” She nodded, taking another look at Dean before scurrying off to get your order.

Dean hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since you sat, looking you over as if to be sure that you were really okay. Taking a deep breath, you settled your nerves yet again.

“Thank you,” you said. His eyes darted up to yours, surprise coloring his features.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, voice gruff with emotion. “I’m just so glad I was there.”

You nodded, looking down at your hands clasped atop the table. His large hand fit over yours, drawing your attention. “You’re really okay?” he asked.

You drew a shaky breath, turning your hand in his to hold onto him. “Honestly, I’m a bit shaken. And my arm is throbbing. But other than that, I’m fine. Promise.” Apparently that was what he needed to hear, his rigid posture relaxing into the vinyl seat. Your order arrived, hot apple pie and decaf coffee set down in front of you. Squeezing Dean’s hand before retrieving it, you dove into your slice of heaven.

The hot dessert soothed your nerves, the familiar taste comforting. You really weren’t kidding when you said it was nothing a slice of pie couldn’t fix. Dean watched you dive in, only starting in on his after you urged him to eat. The hum that followed made you smile.

* * *

After you finished, you sipped on your coffee leisurely. Ellen texted you to just say out or go home- dismissing you for the day with full pay. You’d assured her that you were alright, but she pushed for you to take the time off and gave you tomorrow off too.

Dean cleared his throat, drawing your attention. “You know, I wanted to rip that guy’s throat out.” His quiet admission pulled at your heart. “Only reason I didn’t was because I know you wouldn’t have wanted that.” You nodded, reaching out for his hand, comfortable in the newfound closeness you two shared. He squeezed your hand, looking you in the eyes. “I’m shit at this. You know, the whole feelings thing. I just want you to know that when he grabbed you like that-” he took a breath at the thought, “all I could think about was keeping you safe. I know that’s not my job. I know that, but I want it to be.”

You gazed at him, eyes soft. Squeezing his hand, you offered quiet encouragement.

“You- you’re just perfect and I’m just a guy holding on for dear life. I’m a mess and I don’t want to drag you into that. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care.”

Your brow furrowed, offended at the idea of him being somehow unworthy of you. “Dean, I’m not perfect. I’m just as flawed as you. I make mistakes, I have things that I wish I could go back and undo. I work everyday to be better, and hell if I believe you’re not worth everything in the world.”

He chuckled, a smile pulling at his lips. “You know, you saying that proves my point.”

“Doesn’t make what I said any less true.”

He looked at you as his thumb grazed over your knuckles. “Truth is, I’m scared. Scared of being alone. Scared of what would happen if I let myself really care about someone.”

You sighed softly. “If you’re not scared, then you’re not taking a chance. If you’re not taking a chance, then what the hell are we doing anyway?”

Dean gazed at you, Benny’s words echoing through his mind.

_Leap_.

"I just... I feel like I want to kiss you."

You scooted forward in your seat, pulling Dean’s hand closer and urging him forward. “I feel like I want to let you,” you replied. His other hand came forward, resting on the side of your face again. His calloused fingertips ran over the skin, prickling with gooseflesh. His fingers dove into your hair pulling you close, all the while looking at you as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. Eyes falling shut, his lips pressed hesitantly to yours, testing. At your hum of approval, his silken lips pressed more securely to yours. He tasted of the apple pie, warm and comforting. More confident, he pressed more soft kisses to your lips. His mouth imploring, you gave as good as you got. You pressed closer to his pliant mouth, letting him see how long you’d wanted for this to happen. YOu vaguely felt the hard tabletop pressing into your stomach from the angle of your kiss, but you didn’t care. You reveled in the taste of him. The feel of his mouth against yours unlike any of the scenarios that ran through your head. He was here, asking for nothing, kissing you like he’d never kissed another woman before. Like it was his first kiss, because it was the right kiss. The only kiss that ever mattered.

Finally pulling away, the two of you breathing hard. He didn’t let you wander too far, keeping you close as can be. Pressing a quick light kiss to your lips, then another as if he couldn’t get enough, he beamed at you. Too dazed, you could only look back at him, taking him all in. The color in his cheeks and the slim green rings in his eyes. Freckles stark against the redness of his cheeks, daring you to count them. He pressed another quick kiss to your swollen red lips, his forehead pressed to yours. “It’s you, it’s always been you,” he whispered. Smiling, you grabbed his face, pressing kisses to his face. You marked him with your kisses, claiming each freckle along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter, please be sure to let me know! Posting this was super scary, because this is technically the last chapter. There's an epilogue coming, but I really want to know if you guys liked it. I hope I did it justice.


	9. Epilogue

When the two of you finished at the diner, Dean paid and took you home. He stayed close to your side the whole way home, only partially moving from you when you reached your apartment. You weren’t ready to be left alone and Dean refused to let you out of his sight after the night you’d just had. He asked you if it’d be alright if he stayed over, even if he just slept on the couch. You just smiled and invited him in, more than happy for the company.

Once you got in and settled, Dean asked where you kept your linens. He planned on settling in on your couch, but you didn’t want him sleeping on the hard lumpy mass. It didn’t take much to convince him to sleep in your bed with you, more than enough space to fit the pair of you. Telling him to make himself comfortable as you got ready in the bathroom, you cleaned up and brushed your teeth.

Walking back out into your room, he was already under the covers, propped up against the headboard. He’d decided to leave his shirt on, a silent reassurance that tonight was about comfort- about him being there for you and asking nothing in return.

You smiled sweetly at him, climbing into bed and resting against the headboard alongside him. Dropping your head to his shoulder, he readjusted to wrap his arm around you. You could hardly remember the last time you’d felt so cared for and protected.

Before you knew it, you fell asleep, the day catching up to you. Dean moved you both down the bed and under the covers properly. You were so tired that his light jostling didn't rouse you, but you did unconsciously curl as close to him as you could. Your hand curled into his shirt, bunching the soft fabric into your palm as your head rested on his chest. Your even breaths skittered across Dean’s front as he pushed your hair back from your face. Threading fingers through your hair, he laid awake with his other hand clasped to your waist.

Sleep escaped him. He wasn't sure what it was that kept him awake, but he wasn't complaining. He had you in his arms, soft and pliant with sleep. Looking down at you, he couldn't keep the smile from his face.

You wanted him back and he'd be damned if he ever made you regret that decision.

He pulled you impossibly closer, a content hum leaving your lips. Pressing the side of his face to the top of your head, he snuggled into you. As he closed his eyes, he felt peaceful and content. Blindly pressing a kiss to your head, he let himself melt into the mattress and the darkness of sleep to climb over him.

* * *

Wakefulness slowly crept up on you, sleep still clinging to your consciousness. The light streaming through your shades seared your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You stretched out your arms, back arching against the warm bed. Laying spread eagle, you looked around your room. Everything was as you left it, your usual messiness apparent. You scrubbed at your eyes as you sat up, something nagging at the back of your brain. Everything was the same as usual… your blankets piled at the end of your bed, pillow shoved into the space between your mattress and headboard. Letting your hands fall to your lap, your forearm bumped your leg. A hiss of pain left your lips, your attention brought to the purple and blue marks mottling your skin.

It felt like a bad dream. You closed your eyes against the memory of his hand on you, spewing vile words from a liquor-soaked mouth. His grip on you didn’t last long, but the memory of it stayed with you.

Dean’s fierce protectiveness made you feel so much better about the situation, his coiled strength keeping you from falling apart altogether.

Actually, you were sure that he came home with you. Sure that he slept right next to you, yet there was no trace of him at all. Panic crawled up your throat, fear of being alone clawing at your chest.

Crawling off the bed, you checked through the apartment. Each empty room tightened the lump in your throat, until you came to the kitchen. Soft clanking echoed through the empty space, followed by a harried ‘shh’. Your feet carried you soundlessly to the doorway, the sound of his voice easing the weight from your chest.

Peering into the kitchen, you spied Dean standing there in his clothes from yesterday, his feet bare. He had a pan in his hand, the source of the noise, and a spray can of oil poised above it.

“Dean?” you rasped, the tightness in your throat still lingering. He turned around with a radiant smile before dropping it at the sight of you. Abandoning the cookware, he dove for you, hands immediately at either side of your face.

“What happened, pretty girl? Bad dream?” He asked, voice soft with worry. All you could seem to do was grab handfuls of his shirt and bury your face into the soft material. Dean’s arms curled around you, a hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. His touch was incredibly soothing, grounding you in his steadfast presence.

You didn't realize it, but when Dean turned around, you had twin streams of quiet tears streaking down your face. You felt the wetness now, and the quiet sobs were apparent against his steady form.

You'd always hated crying, it always left you dehydrated and puffy- not to mention emotionally drained. Most of all you hated crying in front of others. You felt like you became an unnecessary burden when that happened.

As you calmed down, Dean’s thumbs tracing patterns into your skin, you kept muttering the same thing over and over again. Dean couldn't quite make out the words muffled quietly into his shirt, so he pulled back minutely so he could better understand you.

_“I’m sorry. I'm sorry.”_

The repetition of the words cut straight through him, tearing away at his heart. He held you closer, cradling your head against his chest. “You’re okay sweetheart,” he murmured into your hair, “you’re okay. I’ve got you. You have nothing to be sorry for, okay? _Nothing._ ” Your hands tightened around his shirt, hanging onto him like he was a lifeline. You stopped apologizing, your nerves frayed to the point that you were shaking like a leaf. Dean pulled back slightly, grabbing you around the shoulders and maneuvered you toward the fridge. He kissed your forehead, hands on your face.

“Let’s get some liquid in you. You want some orange juice?” You nodded, withdrawing your hands from his shirt, crinkled fabric left in their wake. He kissed you again, working quickly to get you a drink. As you drank, you felt a little more normal, a little more human. He stood close, making sure you drank plenty before putting the glass down.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I woke up and you weren’t there- I was just… I guess last night caught up with me.”

Looking at Dean, his face fell. Reaching for you, he pulled you into his arms again. He ran his hand over your hair, soothing you. “I’m so sorry, pretty girl. I wanted to make you breakfast and I didn’t think- I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. Especially not being there after that douchebag grabbed you like that. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I promise.”

You nodded against his chest, enjoying the feel of his blunt nails running across your scalp. You took a deep breath, inhaling his wonderful scent. You stood there for awhile before Dean had to pull away, clicking the stovetop off.

“You hungry, sweetheart? I was going to make pancakes. I think I saw some chocolate chips somewhere that we can put in.” At that you cracked a smile. “They're in the cupboard over there,” you pointed. He smiled back at you, grabbing them.

Before you had time to process it, Dean picked you up, twirling you around a few times as you giggled before setting you on the counter next to him. “Here you go, pretty girl. Front row seat.”

He beamed at you, happy he could put a smile back on your face. He felt incredibly lucky in that moment. The normalcy of spending the morning with you made him overflow with happiness. He cupped the side of your face, pulling you forward to meet his lips. He kissed you sweetly a few times before pulling away to make your breakfast.

* * *

Dean’s pancakes were delicious. It was fun to watch him cook and even better eating the fruits of his labor. You teased him about cooking you breakfast all the time, something that he just smiled at you for, and kept eating.

You'd poured yourself a cup of coffee, enjoying the view from your balcony as you sipped at your mug. Warm arms wrapped around your waist from behind, Dean’s front at your back. You sighed, content as you were. He peppered kisses along your neck, making you squirm and laugh trying not to spill your coffee. He gave up and rested his face in the crook of your neck.

“Let's move in together.”

You paused, unsure if you'd heard him right.

“What?” You asked. “Say that again?”

He let go of you, turning you in his arms and taking the mug from your hands to place on the table nearby. “Let's move in together. Your place. My place. I don't care. But I know that I don't want to wake up without you next to me again.”

You looked at him, sincerity in his eyes. This was happening too quickly, right?

“Don't you think this is a little fast?” You asked.

He shook his head, holding your hands in his large calloused ones. “Maybe. Maybe not. It isn't like we've been seeing each other for a short time. I know we just got together but I can't imagine my life without you. I want you with me. Whether it's here or there, I don't care. But I know that I've never been surer about anything else in my entire life. And that's you.”

At that moment you were sure. So sure. You could imagine no better man to be with and you were sure he was the only one for you.

“I only have one stipulation.”

Dean nodded, already agreeing to anything you wanted. You grinned.

“Chocolate chip pancakes every morning.”

Dean laughed, his whole body shaking with mirth. You smiled back, waiting for his answer.

“Anything for you, pretty girl. Anything.”

At that he kissed you on the balcony, your coffee cold and long forgotten as he pressed his black coffee mouth to your cream and sugar one.

All because you love your balcony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End! Thank you to everyone who left kudos, bookmarked, and an extra thanks to those who left comments! It has been a wonderful journey, this series, but now it's time to say goodbye. I move on to more stories, more SPN, and more writing.
> 
> Thanks for the ride!


	10. Merry Christmas, Pretty Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains adult situations, nudity, and allusion to sex.
> 
> This starts off in Dean’s perspective, then shifts to reader’s. The beginning is based off of one of my favorite Christmas movies, so I hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night! x

__

_Dean relaxed back into his pool chair, reclined partially as to keep a good view of the pool. Skies were clear blue as far as the eye could see, palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze as faint ukulele chords drifted through the air. The pool was practically abandoned except for you and him, and he watched as you did a few lazy laps in the warm water. Watching the way you glided through the pool was something he decided he could do all day._

_He propped himself up a little farther, watching as you made your way to the edge of the pool. Water sluiced over your form, dripping off of you as you climbed the ladder. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way your bright red swimsuit clung to your curves, every enticing turn of your body seen as if for the first time. You walked across the warm concrete, wet footprints drying quickly in your wake as you made your way over to the diving board. You slicked back your hair, your lips ticking up as you caught him staring unabashedly._

_He held your gaze, watching the way it emboldened you. A familiar fire grew in your eyes, the same that he always saw when he gave full and open appreciation of your body. His hungry eyes watched as you walked to the end of the long diving board, slowly turning your back to him as you reached the end. The back of your swimsuit dipped low, the long curve of your spine making him ache at the sight of you._

_But then it happened._

_Your eyes met his again over your shoulder, a twinkle in your eye as he watched one finger dip into your shoulder strap and pull. Shit. His heart thumped harder in his chest, eyes darting around to make sure nobody else was seeing this marvelous display._

_You continued on, pulling the other strap down and off of your arm, tugging the swimsuit down your waist. Dean’s hands clenched tight to the armrests of his chair as he watched your little show, his body painfully aware of just how much skin you were showing off. He was frankly surprised that the arms didn’t bend under the grip he had on them._

_Pushing the swimsuit over your hips, you let it fall to the diving board. One foot stepped out of the fabric, the other flicking out, sending the bright fabric flying through the air. Dean was rendered immobile, his mouth hanging open in awe._

_You were absolutely breathtaking. He watched as you turned, giving him a good show and a sexy wink as you dove into the warm water. He waited as you swam toward him, watching as you grew closer. Your head breached the water, water sent flying as you surfaced. You slicked back your hair, sending Dean an enticing smile as you pushed yourself up over the side of the pool until-_

**Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!**

Dean shot up off the couch, startling you as you pulled your upteenth batch of cookies out of the oven. You could hear him grumbling as you transferred the cookies onto the cooling rack, your santa oven mitt keeping you from burning yourself.

“I told you to just take a nap in the bedroom,” you shot over your shoulder. “that’s what you get for not listening to me.” You just knew the timer would wake him. But oh no, he had to sleep in full view of the tree.

He shuffled into the kitchen behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle as you scooped dough out onto a cookie sheet. He continued to grumble incoherently as he nuzzled his face into your neck, pressing light kisses to your skin that made you squirm in his arms.

“Dean! Quit it!” you giggled, swatting at him as his kisses tickled you.

He groaned, letting his head drop to your shoulder. “I was having a /really/ good dream.”

“Oh yeah? What about?”

“You,” he said simply. “Wet, naked you to be specific.” He laughed, lifting his head to turn up the volume on your docked ipod. “Has this been playing this entire time?”

You nodded, wondering what amused him so much about ‘Mele Kalikimaka’. He smiled mysteriously at you, shrugging as he decided to keep his secret for himself.

* * *

“Alright, I got us some eggnog. Here,” you nudged Dean’s shoulder, holding out a cup. He reluctantly took it, eyeing it as you sat down on the couch next to him. You snuggled into him as you watched the snow fall out of the balcony window. Dean took a sip of his drink, before sputtering after he swallowed.

“What the hell is in this eggnog?!” You shrugged, smiling into your own cup.

“What? I like rum,” you mumbled. He laughed incredulously at you, the sound filling your heart to the brim. It was a wonderful Christmas. The best you’d had in a long time, to be honest. And it was all because of him.

Dean was an amazing boyfriend. He always woke you before he left your shared apartment, kissing you thoroughly each time. On the weekends he even made you breakfast. He took you out on dates when he could, sometimes the two of you opting to just spend the time snuggling and watching a movie instead.

When he asked you to move in, you thought that your relationship would stay the same. If anything, it got even better. You’d grown ever closer, and you realized he was it for you. He was your person. The one you wanted to be with forever; you loved him. You knew that he had his faults, as did you. What made him so amazing was that he was always willing to work through anything and everything for you, with you. There wasn’t an obstacle that you couldn’t overcome together.

Dean leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips, still laughing affectionately. “Of course you’d spike the eggnog, pretty girl. ‘S why I love you.” He stopped abruptly, looking shocked at his own words. He started to look panicked, so you pressed your lips to his own. You pushed and pulled at his mouth, ridding his mind of worry. You pulled away breathless, grinning since this was the best gift you’d received all day. “I love you too, Dean,” you whispered, watching the smile crawl up his face. He dove in again, kissing you hard and fast. His kisses quickly dissolved into kisses pressed anywhere he could reach before he completely abandoned your drinks on the coffee table. His hands quested under your top as he leaned you back into the couch, feelings fueling your need to touch and be touched.

After a while, Dean leaned his forehead against your collarbone as he caught his breath. It came out in harsh pants across your skin, your own breathing no better. He sat up abruptly, pulling at you to follow him.

“What?”

“C’mon, I have one last present for you,” he said, still pulling at your hands. You laughed light and airily at him.

“Dean, I don’t think you can top yourself. I think you telling me you love me is unsurpassable.”

He smirked at you, leaning in and whispering into your ear. “Yeah, but I want to say it a few thousand more times as I make love to you. Again and again until you can’t walk anymore.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! Leave a kudos, a comment, or both!  
> You can find me over on tumblr at [lipstickandwhiskey.tumblr.com](https://lipstickandwhiskey.tumblr.com)!


End file.
